Back in blighty ....

Mengo v Fogo ... and Curbo thinks he's got it hard!!!!!

Well that's it. Nearly three weeks to debauchery finished. No email, no blogging, no racist chanting ... blimey, what's that all about. I can totally understand Ronnie Biggs. It's all a bit weird really. Having spent a quality weekend at Southport then rushing home to pack and setting of to Brasil. I didn't have time to think about a 13 hour flight, or how wasted I actually was, or who I might miss ... well there were certain people of course. But now I'm back and it all seems like a thousand years ago.

I was staying on the outskirts of Vigigal. One of the flavelas close to Leblon and Ipanema. We actually walked into Vigigal and the truck load of Police to have breakfast each morning and where able to stand out on the balcony most evenings trying to place where the sound of the bullets where coming from. But it wasn't that bad.

We, being Timbo ... eventually Mushy and myself Hic, stayed in the White House overlooking the Sheraton.

It's quite mad how fitness conscious the Brazilians actually are, compared to the fat sods that were on my train this morning ... but maybe my holiday blues have kicked in.

My tune of the day: Wild Fire - John Holt